The Big 3-0

Holy shit, people. I don't know exactly what's happening to me, but I'm positive that I don't like it. My Yahoo horoscope for today mockingly read, "Your body is under your control entirely -- it's a great time for positive changes." Apparently I'm not the only one who is disgusted with the gut I've developed over the past six months from the deadly combination of sloth, beer, pizza, wurst, and total indifference.

This year's birthday was not as blackout-riddled and face-paint-heavy as my golden birthday. I did, however, receive Guitar Hero III for the Wii (thanks Jester), so I'll see you guys in a few months.

At least it's all downhill from here. When I turned 20, I had hope. The future was wide open, and I planned to mount it like the submissive it was. Now that I'm 30, the hope has been replaced with frantic despair, and I can't get this damn ball gag out of my mouth. With the best days of my life behind me, I'm now pretty much just biding my time until death. I sure hope the next 13 years, 4 months, and 8 days go quickly.

As a nice little extra, absolutely none of my co-workers knew that it was my birthday, not even my assistant (read: secretary who should know these things if she wants to get a good review at the end of the year). I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Several years from now (if, God forbid, I'm still gainfully employed), people at my job are going to be saying, "Man, I can't believe Andrew's still 29. He looks slightly older than that."

My only saving grace is Jay-Z's untested but highly appealing theory that 30 has actually become the new 20. I hope he's right because that means the next decade is going to be another blur. Regardless, turning 30 kind of sucks, mainly because it presents you with a chance to look back on your life and reflect on what little you've accomplished and how everything in your life has changed, particularly since college. Here are some examples:

Then: In college, eating a super steak burrito at 3 a.m. increased my strength, sex appeal, and sense of self-worth.
Now: All a late-night burrito does is increase my gut, gassiness, and sense of shame.

Then: "I can't wait to go to law school."
Now: "Why did I ever go to law school?"

Then: I could do 21 shots over a 5-hour period and make it to my 10:10 class the next morning without a hangover.
Now: I can't even drink 6 liters of beer in 5 hours.

Then: Women flocked to me like fire to a South Carolina college student.
Now: I lie a lot about my past and make horribly inappropriate comments about dead people I don't even know.

Then: I stayed up until 1 or 2 a.m. every night.
Now: I constantly -- and unsuccessfully -- strive to go to bed every night before 10.

Then: I was a 10-second hero.
Now: Ok, so at least now I've improved at one thing, even if only by 10%.

This next decade will prove to be a pivotal one. I can either, in the words of a man in a movie I still haven't seen, "get busy living or get busy dying." With that in mind, before 10/29/17, I hope to have accomplished several things:

• Become horribly jaded and bitter. Oh, wait.
• Plant my vile seed in Jessie's womb several times over and spawn a brood of equally jaded and bitter children with hilarious names and much more athletic talent than I possess.
• Find something to do with my life that I actually enjoy, like developing my own line of male handbags, writing funny things, or aikido.
• Own property somewhere. Anywhere.
• Dress up as 1972 David Bowie from the Ziggy Stardust album for Halloween.
• Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah.
• Learn aikido.
• Form a religion based on the teachings of Jay-Z. I shall call it "Hovanism."
• Coach Permian to seventh state title.
• Finish that godforsaken book I'm writing.
• Continue to avoid SARS.
• Attend at least 9 bowl games in which IU is a participant.
• In a second, tell-all book, finally come clean about rampant use of performance-enhancing and psychedelic drugs during Pi Kapp soccer B team's dominating run to the 1999 Division II intramural championship, naming names and recounting team's weekly post-game steroid-and-mescaline-riddled orgies with the team's many loyal groupies, colloquially known as The Cleatorises, or "The Cleats" for short.
• Get a few more tattoos.
• To keep things weird, for every birthday from here on out, refer to self only in the third person and only as Ace Frehley, whether or not I am dressed up like Ace Frehley
• Form and manage -- but not play in -- at least one different tribute (not cover, tribute) band each year, including, but not limited to:

1. Eyrrhowsmydd (an all-Welsh Aerosmith tribute)
2. ApothoCarey (an all-pharmacist tribute to Mariah Carey)
3. My Michele (a Guns N' Roses tribute featuring only women and Italian men named Michele)
4. Queen Bitch (a drag tribute to 1971 David Bowie from the Hunky Dory album)
5. She's Tight (an all-preteen-female tribute to Cheap Trick)
6. Gimme Danger Little Stranger (an all-convicted-child-molester tribute to The Stooges that will not be performing on the same bill as She's Tight despite repeated requests)
7. Search and Destroy (an all-father-of-preteen-females tribute to The Stooges that will not be performing on the same bill as Gimme Danger Little Stranger despite repeated requests)
8. Durwalk Durwalk (an easy-listening tribute to Duran Duran)
9. Thin Lezzy (an all-lesbian tribute to Thin Lizzy)
10. Once Burned to Death in a Pyrotechnic Night Club Disaster Twice Shy (tribute to Great White)
11. Mega Mini Kiss (a full-size tribute to Mini Kiss).

• Build a really sweet treehouse.
• Develop a much better metabolism through weight lifting, interval training, and unabashed bulimia.
• Go to Oktoberfest a few more times.
• Post future Oktoberfest recaps within one month of going to Oktoberfest. (FYI, the next installment will be along in a couple days because I am going to a concert tomorrow night.)
• Continue to live in complete denial of my constant aging by acting like I'm in my 20s as often as humanly possible.
• Throw like a ton of raging keggers.
• Continue blogging, so as keep you all painfully informed as to my descent and concomitant denial, but do so in a way that will not depress the shit out of you.
• Avoid using the word "concomitant," whilst increasing usage of the word "whilst."
• Retire.
• Overcome paralyzing fear of time.
• Beat death for a fourth decade.